A Break-dancing Bug and A Clandestine Cat
by Xarniel
Summary: When the world of break-dancing is challenged by the monopolistic fall-in-line fashion ideals of a company named "H.M. Fashion," who will step up? The story begins with the meeting of two very skilled break-dancers, who unknowingly start their journey to becoming the icons of freedom for Paris. But will their relationship survive the ordeals, and will identities be revealed?
1. Chapter 1: Making Friends

The moon shines from over the Eiffel Tower and lamps light up empty streets, but the tunnel beneath the Pont d'léna is alive with flashing lights and music so loud that the street above thrums with bass tones.

A boy in a black hoodie and jeans leans against the stone tunnel wall, his body a silhouette against flashing lights and a large circle of people around the two battling break-dancers. His head bobs with the beat of the crowd is alive with the overwhelming sound of cheering. The energy of it all pulls at him. He peels away from the wall, and steps in sync with the crowd's claps. Green eyes contrast against the black paint on the upper half of his face, scanning over each person in the group. With so much energy, that girl he missed last week had to come again, right?

The boy pushes through the crowd and stops at the edge of the makeshift ring. He feels

a hand grip his bicep and spin him around. A short kid with a green snap-back and red hoodie shouts something that the hooded boy can't hear over the banging music. He pulls off his hood, revealing a mop of golden hair, and leans his ear closer.

"Loki! You ready for t'night?" the short kid yells, a bit too loud for the new proximity. Loki smirks at hearing his B-boy name. He casts a side glance to the dance floor.

"Oh, I'm ready. She better show." Loki knows all of the rumors about the mystery girl's skill. Hopefully they are exaggerated.

"Loki versus Lady Luck! This gon be good―you two battlin'. You'll show her what we 'bout won't cha?" the kid replies, almost to himself.

"Battle? This is about to be a domination," Loki claims while rolling his muscular shoulders for effect. Well, that and to get out some of the building tension in his gut. The kid opens his mouth like he has more to say, but something else pulls at his attention.

The music is quieting down, and the two dancers in the ring stand up and look around. People on the opposite side of the circle from Loki give way willingly―and some not so much―to a girl in a red snap back with black polka dots, a matching loose top and shoes, and black sweatpants. A red bandanna with two eye-holes cut out covers her head from brows to cheekbones. Her midnight blue hair is up in a ponytail, with a dangling red ribbon holding it together. Loki feels his eyes meet hers. They're sky blue, the kind you'd get on a perfect day. His heart skips a steps out from the crowd with as much swagger as he can manage.

"Meee-Owwwww! Lady Luck I presume?" Loki's face splits into a lopsided smirk. She folds her arms and scowls at his comment. Everyone's attention is focused on the two on them. He better lighten the mood. "What, I'm just catcalling." A few scattered giggles could be heard from the crowd, but the sound of hands palming faces is more prominent.

Lady Luck lowers her arms and begins moving towards the center of the ring, eyes focused on Loki. "I have the standards not to take such complements from alley strays," she asserts while turning her nose up. Several "Oooooh"s emanate from the crowd. Loki was losing control of the floor.

"Well look here everyone, we got ourselves a princess on our hands!" he gestures to her while looking out to the crowd. "Would you like me to kneel while I address you, my lady?" he mocks while giving her an exaggerated bow.

She moves forward so that she's chest to chest with Loki. He half regrets what he said, but is half thankful for the new closeness. "The name's Lady Luck, and the only reason you'll need to be kneeling is for your beheading ." The crowd drops the "Ooooh"s in favor of full on uncontrollable jeering. Loki feigns offense with a hand on his chest.

"We here to battle with dance or with words, my lady?" Loki turns towards the crowd and opens his arms. "I'm ready to crush Lady Luck like a ladybug!"

Lady Luck turns to her half of the crowd. "Who wants to see a stray put in it's place?" She waves her hand to her ear for the resounding yes, and the crowd doesn't disappoint.

The two dancers turn back towards each other, noses an inch apart. "Let's raise the stakes," Loki offers. He didn't know where that came from. Well, if he was honest with himself, he did.

"You're on," Lady Luck bluntly replies.

No turning back now. To hell with it. "If I win, we have to date." He twists around to the crowd as to not see her reaction. "How would everyone like to see a lady of such caliber tied to a stray like me?" The crowd's cheers are enough to say that they are in favor. Loki is too afraid to turn around, and so he doesn't.

"And if I win," Loki was thankful to hear her play along. He regrets what he said a little less. "If I win, your new name is _Le Chat Noir_."

Loki let out the tension he felt in a short exhale, and spun on his heels to meet her. Her head is cocked to the side and she has a devious smile. She offers her hand. They shake, and Loki feels he's dreaming. Each dancer moves to their side of the ring to stretch and prepare. An idle hip hop songs plays over the crowd's excited chatter. The DJ makes an announcement―three minutes till the battle. The two dancers finish their stretches and meet center stage.

"You ready, my lady?" Loki says with a nonchalant smile.

"I've never seen someone so eager to lose. I respect that Chat," she prods. "Or maybe you just can't see when you're outmatched." She takes a sip of water, observes Loki's fierce blush, and offers him some. "You look like you need to cool off." Who does this girl think she is?

Loki pushes the bottle away. "You ready or not?"

"Indeed I am, kitty cat." She backs up and gives him the stage.

Loki shakes out his body. He's off to a rough start, but ready to step it up. No time to get nervous. He has to win, has to show this girl that this is his turf. The DJ calls out and asks if the break-dancers are ready. Both reply with simple a "yes".

The bass chord descends and Loki gives a fast wink. The beat starts and Loki is pumped, feet moving perfectly in sync to the sounds. The crowd gets into it, clapping and cheering at his swift drops to his hands, his feet out in front. His body twists and his legs swing around him, barely grazing the ground. He freezes his flow, and glances at Lady Luck―she is unimpressed. He reverses his movements and removes his hands, dropping to his back. Loki's momentum spins him and his legs form a windmill. He rolls onto his hands and stomach, and shifts to his elbows. The force carries over and keeps him spinning, shifting elbow to elbow, and his sneakers blur into a circle.

Loki pushes off and ends up on his feet. He opens his arms to Lady Luck, backs up, and mouths "now what do you got?" She responds by rushing forward and giving him a playful push. He dramatically stumbles while she starts her retort.

Lady Luck dances her way backwards, hips swaying to the song, until she reaches center stage. She brings her right leg up, and swings it down hard. The move drops her body onto her back, and she uses the momentum to mimic Loki's windmill. She shifts from her back to her shoulders and head, and then to fully extended arms with one hand on the other. Her legs come together, hooking at the ankles, and the speed of her revolutions increase. She bends her elbows, landing in a three point head stand, legs split into a flat line, and freezes. The crowd's cheers almost drown out the music.

Loki's eyes are locked open, and staring at the girl in front of him. His eyes shift to a nameless place on the wall that suddenly became very interesting. He wonders if everyone else felt as hot as he did. A shove from behind snaps him back to reality, and to Lady Luck standing with a hand on her hip and the other beckoning 'come and get me.'

Loki shrugs off the momentary hiccup. Now is the time to bring out the good stuff.

Loki busts out the dance moves known to make anyone swoon, feet and body poppin' to the beat, with constant eye contact with Lady Luck. She is entirely unphased. The crowd is screaming. He dives forward, stopping his momentum with his arms in a near handstand, and pushing off without his feet ever touching the ground. He lands on his back, and kicks his body up and onto his hands. The footwork and twists are enough to make a pretzel jealous. He follows up this display by using the power of one leg to launch his body up and parallel to the ground, balancing for a split moment on one fully extended arm. He bends his elbow until it jabs into his gut, and freezes there―body still balanced on one hand. His free hand is at his ear, pinkie and thumb sticking out.

Loki mouths "call me" and stands up. There is no way she could top that. This battle is in the bag. He begins to back away, still facing Lady Luck.

She responds by pointing at Loki. She retracts her arm, and launches into a full aerial spin, landing on one foot and cartwheeling straight into an extended arm windmill. She shifts hand to hand, and in between revolutions, Loki can see her take her hat off in one hand and put it back on mid spin. She drops to her back, and launches herself up into a one handed hand-stand. She freezes there, with her free hand extended to Loki.

Lady Luck gives him a thumbs down, and the most smug upside-down smile Loki's ever seen. She recovers to her feet, and the crowd sweeps in and picks her up. She maintains eye contact and doesn't drop the gesture. He doesn't realize that his mouth is open, or that he can't stop staring at the girl being lifted up by the crowd. Everything is quiet, and all he feels is his blazing red face and thumping heart. "I think I'm in love," he whispers to himself.

The music has stopped and most of the people have left already, but Chat Noir is staying behind to help the DJ pack up the sounds systems and breakdancing mat. This isn't something he usually does, but a quick glance behind confirms that Lady Luck is still here. She's talking to a group of excited fans, and autographs a shoe that one girl shoves at her. He can't help but notice how beautiful she is, even when in direct comparison to the fiery Paris sunrise behind her. A command from the DJ calls his attention back to his work.

Everyone else is gone, and Chat and Lady Luck are the last two under the bridge. He pretends to sort through his bag, letting out a small "ah" as if he found something that he was looking for.

"So, Chat Noir, why didn't you do any head spins?" The voice comes from directly behind him. His body becomes stiff and his heart rate spikes.

"Uh, what do you mean?" He replies while zipping up his bag, still too afraid to face her. Hearing his new name made him feel like he was going to melt.

"You're obviously strong enough to. So why don't you do anything involving your head?" He can't see her, but he gets the feeling her hands are on her hips.

"I- uh, I don't want to hurt my head," he suggests, not fully sure of his lie.

"That diving handstand move of yours landed you straight on your back―that had to hurt. So don't try to tell me you're afraid of pain," she declares.

Chat reaches up and rubs his scruffy hair. "Uh, I don't want my hair getting messy?" he offers.

"Have you looked in a mirror?" Her voice was rising in volume. Chat feels like he's shrinking under her comments. He'd better come clean.

"I-I don't want any of my hair to get pulled out." He turns around to meet her stare so show knows that he is telling the truth. Her eyebrows are furrowed.

"I don't understand."

"My hair may be messy now, but keeping it all in is really important to me." Lady Luck's eyes feel like they're searching Chat's face for any hint of another lie.

She lets out a frustrated sigh. "Then why didn't you just tell me?"

"Break-dancing is my freedom. A freedom I'm not really allowed to have. If everyday me turns up with a bald patch, my freedom is gone. If a break-dancer finds out who I am and words spreads, my freedom is gone. I don't want to lose it. I need it. I really need it." Chat's chest feels heavy at the confession. "You're wearing a mask too, don't you understand?"

Lady luck reaches up and feels the bandanna across her face. "Chat―Loki, I'm sorry. Listen, I didn't-"

"Please, call me Chat." He gives her the most confident wink he can manage. "Le Chat Noir sounds way better than Loki ever did. It's the best gift you could've given me, my lady."

She giggles at his response. "Well, how about this―I'll make you a new hoodie. I'll pad the hood and add a strap so it'll stay up when you dance. That way, you can do whatever moves you'd like without having to worry about your hair," she offers with a smile. Reaching up and ruffling his hair. "Plus, the one you're wearing now looks like it's falling apart." She picks at a piece of white lettering on the front of the hoodie that's peeling off.

That comment is true. To keep his identity secret, Chat uses an old hoodie his father forgot about long ago. Coming home in any top of the line hoodie his father buys him with new scuff marks or tears would be a sure way to lose his everyday 'privileges' of going to a public school and being able to hang out with friends.

Chat can barely hide his excitement, and wraps his arms around Lady Luck's shoulders. "Thank you so much! You're the best friend I could ever ask for!" He was glad that his chin was on her shoulder, so she would miss the blush he got after realizing what he did. "We-uh, we are friends right?"

"Of course, you silly cat. But, that gift won't be free." She pulls away from the hug, and places a hand on Chat's cheek. "First," she says, as her thumb gently caresses the paint under his eye. Chat's heart is in his throat, his eyes shoot open and his face erupts into a strong blush. Does she know what she's doing to him? She pulls her hand away and checks her thumb. After seeing the small amount of black residue on her thumb, she continues. "You'll have to tell me which face paint you use. This bandana gets too hot. Secondly-"

"Fine," Chat interrupts. "I'll be the one to bite the bullet for the human race. I'll be the one to date you Lady Luck." Chat Noir smirks. Lady Luck recoils in embarrassment.

"They-pe-people like me! People want to date me! I'm not that bad!" She responds, pausing a moment to regain composure. She breathes in and breathes out. "Very funny. Secondly you can carry me, and my bag, up those stairs, back up to the street. I'm feeling quite tired from having to deal with you."

Chat wants to give her a frown, or a clever response, but his brain is fried. She is too good to handle. Instead he plays along with slightly too much enthusiasm, grabbing Lady Luck's bag from out of her hand, and picking up his bag in the other. He turns around and crouches. "Your purr-sonal cab has arrived, my lady." He can easily hear the loud sigh, and gets the feeling that she just rolled her eyes.

Lady Luck wraps her arms around Chat's neck, and mounts her thighs on his hips. He stands up, and starts walking to the stairs.

She isn't heavy, but she definitely isn't light. Each step is a challenge, and halfway up Chat is sweating and breathing hard. The pain is worth the contact though.

"Hey Chat, I have one more demand," she states. He stops climbing to catch a break.

"What more could you possibly want?" he asks in-between a few exaggerated breaths.

"Call me Ladybug. Even if you came up with it in a pathetic insult, I think it fits me better than 'Lady Luck' does."

Chat's heart is fluttering in his chest. Energy renewed, he sprints up the remaining steps.

"Hey! Knock it off! I'm gonna fall!" She struggles to say in between laughs.

Chat makes it up the stairs, across the street. He shows no signs of stopping and heads towards the Eiffel Tower, morning sun shining through its struts, he and Ladybug laughing all the way. He just wants to keep going. As long as they're together, he's happy.


	2. Update: Not Actually Chp 2

**UPDATE** (This will be removed when the new Chp. 2 comes out.)

Hello Readers,

Yesterday, I wrote a chapter that I didn't necessarily deem worthy of publishing. I realized that I would not be able to work on any fanfiction for another two weeks, and decided to publish it anyways. However, waking up this morning and re-reading some of those cringe-worthy fumblings of the English language and outright bad story-telling was enough for me to feel justified in removing that chapter.

I want to give you all the best I can do, and that chapter wasn't it. So if you'll wait a minimum of around two weeks, I'll deliver.

―Xarniel


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